Talia Case
#3
5548

To Whom It May Concern

Jake-
Heh there ole buddy ole pal. How are you these days? I hear you're drinking yourself to death, oh yeah, sounds like some healthy stuff I tell ya. Eh, guess it would be quite a bit more healthy than what I've been doing, but I s'pose that is something that's no longer your concern. But, ya know what, it is. Damn straight it is. You wanna know why? Because, even if you decided on your own terms to push me out of your life, you have yet to leave mine. Sad isn't it? Fuckin' A it is, but you're one who has to deal with it, along with me of course. Lost ya didn't I? I was always good at that, but then again, you were always good at getting found. Guess that was something we had in common, we could always understand each other's gibberish when no one else could. And we were always the only ones who gave a fuck too- funny thing isn't it. That neither one of us is s'posed to give a fuck anymore. I've decided I don't like that idea. Ya know, the one where you get involved with this person; you share your life, your being, your heart, and soul with this other person, become best friends. Every last moment of every last day is spent in their arms, their presence, or at least their thoughts. And then, all of a sudden, like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie- you wake up. The dream is over, and ya know what, that person no longer exists. And even if they did, it wouldn't matter, because now, now that you've woken up, you're not s'posed to converse with this person anymore. You're s'posed to act like there was nothing there in the first place, and you lose a best friend. You lose a lot. I don't like that whole idea, that one that surrounds all common relationships. Yeah, I know, some people remain friends after they break up, but ya know what, you and I both know that's a load of crock. If they remain friends after then they were nothing more than fuck buddies during. I remember when you shed lite on that subject first.

We were lying in bed, as usual when we had our deep conversations, it was the place we could let all our inhibitions go, and even if we weren't having sex we could let our inhibitions free in communication, but it was always lying in that bed; the mattress on the floor of your two-bedroom apartment that you're now sharing with Andrea, with Cake, or The Cars, sometimes even Tori playing in the background. Yeah, that's where all our serious conversations took place. All except that last one, and I wonder, if that wasn't really where it did take place. If we really didn't end things the week before while lying in bed, when you couldn't tell me that I was the only one you wanted to make Love to. You couldn't answer me, and I couldn't say anything in return to your silence, so- our serious conversation was halted, and I turned around to face the corner that, in the previous six months had become a haven of sorts, to hide my troubles, my fears, my anger, my tears, while you wrapped your arms around a body so cold, a mind so empty, and a heart so full that silence was the only defense because had I talked, that would have been it. And now I'm glad I didn't talk, because, then right now would be even worse. As though it's not as bad as it possibly can be, but had I talked, you would have had all of me. You were almost there. You had my mind; I could tell you anything, and you would tell me everything, my body; you took I gave you my virginity and still, to this day, you are my one and only, my soul; you yourself said we were soul mates, but then again, I guess it was one of those drunken nites, anything can be said and not really meant in the heat of the moment, I've learned that lesson well, my heart; I fell head over feet and heart over head in Love with you, but you had yet to unlock the passageway to what kept my most horrid secrets inside--the reasons I stayed quiet and the defense I most often used against an emotionally-barren, until now, boyfriend. I know you don't understand that, of all people I expected you to be the one to be able to, and maybe had you given me the time, had I let you in, I would have been able to explain to you that silence was my protector. I was safe within my head, but anything could happen out there. Out there, in the land where perfect mommy's and daddy's get perfectly unstable and nasty divorces. Then again, maybe I just thought you would understand because you yourself have repressed memories of your own parents' divorce, and I think that says a lot about you. You try so hard to be strong and act like nothing bothers you, nothing phases you, but I knew better. I know better. So that was one area where we differed, immensely. You put on a front of Superman and refused to let anyone believe you were hurt by anything, even a divorce that left you scarred for life. I, remain silent in my times of despair and anger, because, I don't want to end up like my parents. But, maybe what I am is worse. This person who can't talk about her problems because she's way too passive and she doesn't want to hurt anyone else. Why is it that the "humanitarians" in this world are always the ones that get fucked over the most? Nonetheless, maybe its time to really, truly, and without masks point out to you why I don't talk, if it matters anymore, and it does, to me at least.

I can remember the first time I let it all out. I spoke. The police were standing in my doorway, and I, a seven year old trying to be strong for the family, sat wide-eyed and scarred on the sofa across the room. My dad went too far this time, my mom had lost it. There was blood everywhere, and nearly every nice thing in my house was either broken or thrown across the room in a shambles, and most likely shattered as well. The police weren't going to take him away though, they never did. I don't know why. I think they should have. Sometimes I wish they had, but, that's another story. These people that surrounded me were the only ones I Loved. They were my family. My mother stood crying, leaning upon a wall, gasping for air, trying to tell the policeman what had happened. My father, my perfect father, sat on the sofa beside me, every once in a while glancing my way to see if I was doing alright this time. I was always all right. This was just an ordinary Friday nite for me. My grandma stood beside me, with her hand on my back, trying to rub some sympathy into a body that was already becoming frigid and apathetic. I just sat there, watching these people, not knowing what to feel or think. They all kept throwing glances my way, the uneasiness was unbearable, especially for the new policemen. These two were new. I imagine they had been set out to settle this domestic abuse because the rest of the force was tired of dealing with a woman who was beat up on an every day basis and yet continued to stay with her husband. I would have gotten fed up too. I did. That nite, I did. Finally someone asked me how I was doing, if I was ok. It's really not important who, obviously because I don't remember. And at first, I said nothing, but I was the talkative little girl who always gave you everything straight, at least back then I was. They expected me to say something. They knew this time was different. It was my turn to say something. They waited. Tension was ten inches thick and my eyes were burning from holding back seven years worth of tears. It came. I burst. Sobbing, I told them all how I thought this was such utter pointlessness. How they were married, and they were s'posed to be happy, because that's what married people do. How if they couldn't be happy then they shouldn't be together, and how hitting was wrong. Daddy was wrong. My dad's head immediately went into his hands to cover up the tears. My mom collapsed to the floor and began to sob. The policemen were stunned by such a little girl's outrage. My grandma knelt down to wrap her arms around me and I shunned away. I didn't want her Love. I didn't want any Love. I wanted them to Love each other. But they didn't, and I couldn't change that fact. Looks of remorse and pity were all guided my way. I made all these people feel horrible about themselves. All the people I Loved felt crushed because of what I had said. I didn't like that feeling. I still don't. So, I don't talk. Maybe that's not a good excuse, perhaps its not really one at all, but it's my defense. I stayed silent with you because I Loved you so much, I didn't want to hurt you. Who was to know it would hurt me in the end? Now that I've told you, I don't expect anything, except maybe some understanding. But that's all. I digress. Where was I?

Oh, that's right, our serious conversation about being friends after the fact. Oh wait a minute, what is that I hear on the radio? Damn The Cars--its funny, I still get a chill when I hear this song because I remember you singing it, all the time; downstairs when I was fixing dinner, or we were, when Chef Andonio presided over our pretend dinner of veal scaloppini when in all actually it was just Noodles & Sauce from Aldi. You were so cute. Dancing around in your black BDU's like no one was watching, and like you didn't care if they were. Your eyes would widen and I could see just how blue they were, and I thought I could see just how much you Loved me. Maybe you did. We were so comfortable around each other. We knew all the bad things and didn't care. You would never dance and sing with Heather and Walt in the house. Only I was that lucky. Only I could see Jake in his briefs after a long nite of hanky panky in a room with only a mattress on the floor. Only I got to see your stash of porn in a locked briefcase in the closet upstairs, hidden from your mother for 12 years. Only I was allowed to sing in the car with you or turn your computer on without your permission. Only I knew that you didn't remember your entire first grade year on account of your parents' lengthy divorce. Only I knew your true dreams and aspirations of a life so far away, but so yearned for. Only I knew how you masturbated, and only I could pick the eye sleep from your eyes on early Sunday mornings when we woke up together to a breakfast of sugar-coated cereal. Only I was privileged enough to get to hear you sing- Dixie Chicks, The Cars, Cake. Oh, but what was the most fun? When we got to sing together. Like at Lilith Fair, when I was so scared to take you because I was afraid you wouldn't like it. That you would be miserable at a place filled with women and cute little folk music, and, its funny, because I think you enjoyed it almost more than I did. I remember you telling me how much you wanted to go simply because you knew how much I would enjoy it, and you wanted to experience something like that with me. I didn't realize then how much I appreciated that. I didn't realize how much I would remember that nite just because you were there with me. And that's what was most important. You were there. I do know that what I enjoyed most was when the Dixie Chicks were up there, and we sang, together. That was the whole point-together. And when Cheryl Crow…ewww, we hate her don't we? When she got up there to sing we just looked at each other and decided without a word that we would go ahead and dance, and sing, and enjoy the concert even if we didn't particularly like Cheryl or her whiny voice. Do you remember? Tori does, it was funny, she makes fun of me to this day. How we were screaming/singing into each other's faces and holding hands, and . . . Tori says she thought we were truly happy then. She had had her doubts before, whether or not I was happy with you, but she knew, somehow that day, that we were happy. And we were, weren't we? Oh, well, I guess that doesn't matter anymore does it? You took me home that nite, a two hour drive and you had to work the following nite, but you still took me home. I felt horrible for asking so much of you, but you kept reassuring me that everything was ok. We slept together that nite, in my bedroom at home, and I didn't even think about it. My mom didn't say a word either, and maybe that was a sign that things were a little too good to be true. But it never felt so good, to fall asleep in your arms, as it did that nite. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because I finally felt that was where I belonged. Again, I digress, I apologize, you know how music affects me when I'm writing, and like I said, The Cars came on B-97, so, I had to stop and smell the, cheesy 80's music. So, where was I?

Oh, yes, friends. I once told you, while we were lying in bed, that I never wanted to lose you. I told you you were the most wonderful man/being I had ever met, and even if things didn't work out between us with this whole relationship thing, I always wanted to be your friend, because, I could never imagine my life without you. I know this was early on. Probably before our first month ever passed us by, but already you had made such an impact on my life. I didn't want to lose you. And you told me, right then and there, "Talia, I can't promise you that. I can tell you that you will always be in my heart, but I can't say that we will always be friends, because that would be a lie. I can't guarantee something I have no control over. . ." Your truth amazed and frightened me, but it turned out to be true didn't it? I tried to understand it that nite, lying there with thoughts of just being friends running through my head. Funny, that's what I wanted in the beginning, but because of the events that led us to meet, freiendship was already somehow put behind us. You were such a great person, I thought, maybe. . . I don't know what I thought. I know now that as much as I'm tempted to say I wish I could do things all over again, and just be friends with you, I know better. I would never in my life take back what I had with you, but, that doesn't mean I don't miss you. That doesn't mean that some part of me doesn't still wish to be your friend. We certainly can't be friends though, can we? No. Why? Ya know what, I don't even know. I imagine it's because the two of us have been through so much together, we can't see one another without seeing that. Truth. I don't want to be your friend. I know I want more than that. I think I always will. I know when I see you all I can think about is when we were together, when I could go up behind you and wrap my arms around you and you would smile and pull me to you. . . kissing me on the lips and making my whole body quiver. For me, every time was like the first. You know, that doesn't happen anymore. Not that you would care, but it doesn't. I kissed Dan. And as much as I wanted, yearned for something to be there, between the two of us, there wasn't anything. Funny, how the entire time you and I were together you begged me to let him go, and I refused, defending my friendship with him as just that, a friendship. But you and I both knew that there was more, at least a glimpse of something more between Dan and I, even if I refused to admit it. I'm sorry if I ever hurt you. It's weird, how that, now you're gone, Dan has another chance. A chance I told him he would get if ever the time arose, but a chance that I now no longer wish to give to him. I don't want him, and I wonder, if it's just because I want you, if I just don't want anyone at all, or if it's just him. A little of all three actually. I never knew Dan, and even if I did, it was before, before you, before I changed, and now, that I have, he's not what I want, or need. Right now, maybe I don't need anyone, but myself. And perhaps that's good. You've given me the chance to find myself- if she's willing to be found. But then, there's always that thought in the back of my head, when I go to bed at nite, or when I'm walking to class and pass the fountain that reminds me of you, when I hear a song on the radio, when I see a couple. . . there's always that thought, that I still want you. I wonder if it will ever go away for me. It has for you?

I know it's almost been a month, and some people tell me that's a long time. Others tell me it's nothing compared to what's to come. I don't know what's worse, that I'm still thinking about you after all this time ( Thinking, hah, if that were only the case. It seems like I spent my whole life with you, in those mere six months, and I wonder if everyone goes through this after a break-up, or if I am just a bit too melodramatic for my own good. Nonetheless, not only do I think about you, I talk about you incessantly, and I don't even mean to. I went to DC this weekend. Did you know that? Yep, to spend the weekend with the ex before you.**dan** The one that "broke" me, the one you didn't want me talking to anymore for my own well-being. Yeah, it wasn't a very smart move on my part. I know that. I came home with only guilt feelings and a bruised neck-but what's new? But, that's not the point. I caught myself, not once, not twice, hell, not even three times. I caught myself every time I opened my mouth saying something about you-or you and i. . .or you and Walter, or…anything concerning you. I don't know how he put up with it. I kept trying to stop myself, but your name just kept coming out. Even when we were in bed-where I never should have gone. Weak moment. I didn't sleep with him, just so you know. You meant more than that to me, he doesn't. But he realized, after a nite full of passion for him and I call him Jake on accident, well, yeah, I do a little more than just think about you. I think I need medication for my obsession over you. Seriously, I think I'm disturbed. I still have a picture of you sitting right beside my computer. I can see it right now in fact. I can look at it right now. The one with you and Nick, you looking all macho like and him holding up a card saying he's God. I remember that nite too. That's why I'm neurotic, because I can remember all those damned nites. Everything that moves or whispers reminds me of you. Everything I touch brings this flash of memory back that involves you in some way shape or form. Every time I go to tell a story about my life, with a friend or teacher, anyone, you always come up. I didn't think we could have done that much in six months, but I guess, at least my mind thinks we did. I don't know what you could call this, I simply call it crazy. Tori says it's expected and everything will eventually be ok. Heather defends me and says I'm in Love with you and can't help feeling what I do. I say I'm going insane and need some serious help, but, I digress again.) or, if in time, I will forget about you. I think I fear that, because you mean so much to me, and I realized it wasn't just the whole virginity thing. It's everything. You changed me. You made me into who I am today-and that, I can thank you for, and most likely, that I will never forget, so it is a pointless fear, because I could never forget you if I tried. You made me believe in myself because you believed in me, however, that at this time is questionable, so I won't go any further than that.

I hate comparing, but I'm told everyone does it. . . and because I will /can never forget you, I will also always hold you on that pedestal so high. The perfect way you held me at night when I woke up crying from a bad dream, no one else could make me feel so Loved, as you did, the way you could take control of any situation, even if it was something you had no clue about, the way you would keep your cool even when we were lost in the worst part of downtown Indy with an ailing Walter in the back seat, the manner in which you spoke to my parents and were so comfortable with them, even when I wasn't, how you sympathized with my little brother and made me realize a lot of what was wrong in the whole familial situation, the way you would read me, could read me, the way you were with your friends, and with me, the way you made deli sandwiches to such perfection, and the way you made me feel. That's what I will remember most. Not the superficial things. I will always remember how you made me feel special. Perfect you would say. Lying in bed you would tell me how perfect I was, when I knew better, but I liked hearing it nonetheless. When you told your mom that I was a writer, I just glowed inside that that was how you thought of me. That you thought I was that good, or that passionate, to be called, a writer. Just you introducing me to people made me feel proud because, you were proud of me. I awaited your calls every day and nearly bragged because I knew I would get one. And even though they weren't a surprise, my heart just soared when I heard your voice on the other end, even if we had been in a tiff the nite before. I always knew things would be ok in the morning, when we had time to think about it, and realized our Love outlasted the arguments, the little ones at least. Not that we had arguments. Jaime warned me about that one. Do you remember? He told us we should fight more often. We laughed it off, but we knew there was some truth in that statement. We would always talk about how we got along so well, we would never ever have a reason to break up. We didn't fight like Heather and Walter did, and they were engaged. We didn't have to spend twenty-four hours a day with each other to be happy with each other, like Larry and Nick, and they were engaged. Maybe that was our problem, every last relationship we had to look up to, was either in a shambles or perfect. There was no in between for us, so we had to make it into something it wasn't. But we didn't do that, did we? It was what we made it at the time. It was us. I know that.

I know you're the only one I've ever opened up to. I think it will stay that way for a while. I'll always remember that chill down my spine when you kissed me, or touched me, even if it was just to hold my hand, or just when I heard your voice. The way I was never scared around you, never uncomfortable, never shy. I used to be the queen of shy. You made me whole…you made me into a real person…but…then you left me. And now, I've digressed so much, I don't even know what the point was to this whole letter. Just to let me know I guess, let me know that you know how I feel. That you know I would never ever take anything back, because I cherish it all too much now, even though the pain is so overwhelming sometimes.

I think I've disappointed just about everyone by now. I let you down. I've let myself down. Grandmother, I know she's looking down on me right now, and thinking….oh, I don't even want to know what she's thinking. I let you get to me. Did you even know that? I bet you didn't. And I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty, I'm telling you because my therapist told me I should. Don't ask me why, I must have tuned her out about then, but I do know she told me I should tell you. Yeah, Jake. I tried to kill myself. Can you believe that? Me? Someone so afraid of pain, blood, death? That's what you drove me to, but no, that's what I drove me to. I gave up on everything. I stopped going to classes, I stopped eating, I stopped caring, period. All I could do was sit in the bottom bunk and hide behind sheets that allowed my anti-social attitude to be. I sat there, curled up and crying behind a wall I didn't even realize I had put up. My stomach was in knots, my head rolling around in circles because I couldn't/wouldn't understand why all this had happened. And no one else could tell me either. There were no answers to be found. I had been questioning my status in Bloomington anyway and now that I lost you, I didn't have one. I was here in Bloomington wasting my mother's money and doing nothing. I was worthless. I had no job, I wasn't going to classes, and even if I was, my grades were less than average and bordering on very poor. I had no friends here, and I had no Jake. Life was worthless. So, I decided to end it. What would it matter? No one would care, no one would even notice. I didn't just do it once though. Oh no, that would have been too easy. First I cut. Yeah-never thought blood would be my style either. But I didn't cut enough. One wrist is never enough-or so they tell me now. I imagine it was my unconscious keeping me alive by plain ignorance. So after I woke up the next day- still alive, still breathing, and bleeding, I wrapped up my poor excuse for a cut and to alleviate the pain it was causing got some pills out of the medicine cabinet and just started swallowing. I don't think I did it on purpose. I was in a trance…I just kept going until two bottle were empty, and so was my stash. I didn't think anything of it. . .until I passed out, and thought, "at last". Nope, obviously, or I wouldn't be able to write this right now. Evidently, it's just not my time, eh? Someone wants me here, even it it's not you. Even if sometimes you're the only one that counts.

Yeah, so I told you. I hope you're ok though. Like I said, I know you've been drinking a lot lately, and I imagine it's hard to have lost your best friend and your "Love" in the same week. I'm upset with Walter about that, but that's not my place. You didn't have to lose him like you have, you could keep in contact too, I still talk to Heather, and although it may not be the same, we're still able to be there for each other. I know you need a friend. I know Andrea provides that for you. I'm glad. Cause I know Walter isn't there for you. Sometimes I despise him for that, but like I said, it's not my place. You two are grown men, I s'pose you know what you're doing. I still worry about you though. For good reason I imagine. I just hope you're ok. I've been having dreams…bad ones, and you know how those go. Just, don't blame yourself for everything that has happened. Don't be a masochist like me. This may sound psycho-maybe I am. But I think, someday, we will be together again. Jake, I told you, you met my Grandmother. It wasn't meant to end like this.

With all my Love-
Talia


PS So, I decided I didn't want to end on that psycho note and scare the every loving shit out of you. I am letting go. Dan told me, it was funny that he of all people told me this, but he said to me, "I don't expect you to forget about him, but you're holding on so tightly, you need to let him go." And this is it. This is me letting go. I'm trying damn it. I am. I don't want to, I do know that. I know I don't want to let you go, but I have to. We have to go on and live our own lives, apart, even if it makes one or both of us miserable. Maybe we have to find ourselves again, because maybe we lost them in becoming a couple. I sometimes think we did. Dan says I remind him a lot of you now, and I know that comes with any relationship, but I really do think we lost ourselves in each other. I also think I scared you and I apologize for that. I never meant to. Intensity seems to be my middle name, and you got to see it all. I do hope you get to fall in Love someday, even if it hurts, and even if I am bitter and angry right now, it is worth it. It is worth everything because it's Love, and you yourself said, "Love is the only thing worth living for." And, I don't hate you. Don't feel bad for what happened between us, because it wasn't something that was your fault or mine. It was life. It was Love. We learned from it. You learned to feel. I learned that I have to find myself, it's time. We've been hiding from it for awhile now. And don't feel guilty about what I've done or am doing, because it's me. It is my life. You didn't make me do it, I did. Don't drink yourself to death either, if I can't escape from this place neither can you. This world would be a truly sad place without you in it. You know that though- somewhere you have that knowledge. Thank you Jake, for making me believe I can do something, even if it is questionable right now. I know at one time it was true. Thank you for being a part of my life. You will always be in my heart, just like Legs says to Maddy in Foxfire, "You're in my heart," with tears running from her face she pounds her chest, and lets go of her. I'm letting go. You're in my heart Jake. . . in my heart.

And no, Jake won't get this simply because I know he will blame himself. . . guess I still haven't gotten over that silence, but I care for him too much to have him go through the extra pain of dealing with how I dealt with mine.